


Better to Ask

by Cards_Slash



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Really just sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonardo finally figures out the one thing that Ezio just can't seem to ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better to Ask

**Author's Note:**

> kink meme fill for this prompt: Ezio/Leonardo. Not all particular about who tops.
> 
> The bottom really loves to get fucked like, impatient get-your-dick-in, squirming and moving around because it feels insane good for them to the point that the top is holding them down just so they can keep fucking

It had come on slowly, in degrees--

Ezio, exhausted and beaten, dragging himself in after another mission. They were still in Firenze then and the wound of his family's death was still livid and ugly just beneath his tired frown. Leonardo was easy-steady-sure and _useful_. But Ezio was young-and-hurt with blood soaked into his clothes and bruises set into his skin. He was still and quiet while Leonardo poured warm water over his wounds to clean them. They got used to it--the feeling of their skins touching.

\--and then--

An ugly, errant kiss against the wall of the workshop when Ezio's fire-fueled impatience finally got the better of him. His hands were needy fists in Leonardo's fine clothes and his mouth was a hard-unforgiving slant against his. When he pressed forward the bulk of his body was padded with armor and unfamiliar-feeling. Leonardo was limp (out of fear, out of pity, out of a thousand-different-feelings) and easy. But he didn't kiss back until Ezio pulled away with a bitten-off curse that sounded like an apologetic sob. When his hands caught at Ezio's clothes they were both wide-eyed with shock. Leonardo thought (you make me so stupid) but he still pulled Ezio closer and put an arm over his shoulders to drag him back. 

\--more like--

Firenze was where they grew into each other--Ezio with his fumbling fingers and his ducked-low head and Leonardo with encouraging resistance. Ezio learned nothing so quickly and surely and completely as he learned to strip Leonardo out of his clothes and reservations. Leonardo was panting and sweat-slicked before Ezio even bothered to pull apart his own clothes--desperate for anything. Ezio was heavy-and-heated when he pushed Leonardo into the bed with the full of his weight over him. They were fools with wet tongues and ragged breaths, making a mess of each other without saying a word.

\--oh, but--

Over time Leonardo had memorized the smell of Ezio's intentions. Fresh soap and sweet perfume was an apologetic mumble of better intentions--too much time around women with swelling full breasts and loose legs had gotten the better of him again. And the burn of metallic red blood was a codex page and hastily offered gratitude. But fresh-sweat over old soap was a spare moment between this-and-that when Ezio had nothing better to do than lounge in Leonardo's private rooms. He looked good, defenseless (even) with his chest stripped bare and all of his scars exposed. For all the muscles that made his arms and chest grow thicker he was made of nothing more than human stuff. And Leonardo was a wreck in the evenings when artistic inspiration hounded him ceaselessly throughout the day. 'You look tired,' Ezio whispered to him, pulling him closer with a single finger hooked into a curl of his clothes. 'Let me.' Leonardo was made of human things but when Ezio slid to his knees with a hungry swipe of tongue across his lips--oh, that must have been what the gods felt like.

\--and then--

In Forli, Ezio found him on the docks. (Alive, of course, no reason to have ever worried yourself Leonardo. Of course alive.) His fists were furious when they caught at him. 'Not here,' Leonardo said (like a frightened thing, so small and slight and terrified). But Ezio didn't release him, not for a second just pulled and pulled at him until they were slipping on mud and puddles, falling over themselves. It was no less conspicuous, only ever so slightly less incriminating. Ezio found a home without an occupant and shoved him in through the broken door. They were rabid then, unforgiving and violent. Ezio fucked (for the first time, maybe the only time) him against a table muttering reproaches and curses. They collapsed in a pile with Ezio's arms around his body and his voice at his ear saying 'I can't bear to lose you.'

\--so—

On the stinking boat with a dozen hungry ears, Ezio went still and sullen. He crouched in the corner of the cabin with his knees up and his head down picking at the bits of nothing stuck to his clothes. Leonardo was busy with the effort of normality—talking to passengers and making friends with busybodies that noticed things other people did not. But in the darkest part of night, Ezio crawled back to him like a regretful little beast. ‘I shouldn’t have, forgive me.’ For the violence of the act or an imagined offense. Leonardo was groggy with sleep when he pulled-and-pulled at Ezio until they were laying together. ‘All is well,’ he murmured. Do not worry, he meant to say and did not.

\--but,--

Ezio came with no less frequency in Venezia but with greater reluctance. Leonardo was caught up in re-establishment, getting to know and pleasing new patrons. An artist lived and thrived by the doting affections of his patrons. He lost time in between the hurried spaces with Ezio’s body pressed against his and the empty bed the morning after. He hardly had the time to notice before Ezio was there with a sweetly drunken kiss and fumbling hands pulling at him. His mouth was a worry of, ‘I’ll never do it again I didn’t—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Leonardo held him and shushed him and sang him to sleep. In the morning he was alone with his thoughts that were crowded and slippery-at-times so he didn’t even have the time to think about what dogged at Ezio’s heart-and-mind with such determination.

\--then—

When Ezio came again he smelled of sour perfume and the stench of the canals in his hair. ‘It is regrettable,’ Ezio said when Leonardo frowned at his stench. They made a mess of bathing, ended up in a puddle on the floor with Ezio straddling his lap—slick and slippery as he restlessly rocked. ‘I think about it,’ Ezio whispered with a red-red blush on his face. His hand was rough against Leonardo’s chest and his breath was quick. His hips were insistent and low, grinding against the eager hardness of Leonardo’s cock. But Ezio’s voice drove him crazy whispering, ‘I think about it, I—‘ and the way his body clenched up when Leonardo’s fingers slid down his back and between the spread cheeks of his ass to rub insistently. Ezio came with a shock, teeth clenched hard and a strangled little moan in his throat. But he was gone again with the rise of the sun.

\--and after—

Leonardo had never been a dull-minded sort. He had driven his mother to inspired heights of aggravation with curiosity, with his inferences, with his every-little-question and demand for more knowledge. He had spent his life in a fever of things he needed to figure out and things that came to him from some dim corner of his mind. He woke (alone, always left behind) with the smell of Ezio’s body still clinging to his bedclothes and he pressed his face down into the rumpled mess of blankets. It came to him then, the whole disaster of months of Ezio’s hesitancy and drunken mumbling-apologies for something he must have thought was a sin beyond sins. Leonardo smirked into the blankets (wrapped up in the smell of Ezio). What a glorious idiot Ezio could be, fearless in the face of death and the hell he was sure waited for him but balking at something so very, terribly simple.

\--it happened like this:

Ezio sprawled out across his bed, lazy and lethargic on the heels of orgasm. He looked sweaty and spent, half asleep with just barely open eyes. But he was pliant when Leonardo climbed between his legs and easy and half interested at how his knees were being pressed open and upward. His voice was nothing but a sleepy murmur when Leonardo kissed his throat and an agreeable mumble when he worked his way down to suck at his nipple. 

“You will not get more from me tonight,” Ezio said (so quietly, like he could deny having said a word). “It was a long day.” And weeks before that, and years before that. His body was languid now, content to lay and be observed and petted. 

“I am only curious,” Leonardo said. He kissed his way lower, traced familiar old scars with his fingers and tongue. He licked at the sticky white spots when he found them and felt the flinch as Ezio shifted under him to press up or move away. “I thought you were going to sleep,” Leonardo said. His hand slid lower, from waist to him and dragging through the still-drying sweat on the inside of Ezio’s leg, trailing lower. 

“You are making it a difficult process.”

“Do you know what I would like to do to you?” His thumb was pressed insistently against the tight clench of Ezio’s hole, rubbing back and forth. He was low against the bed, close enough to feel every little flinch of tightness that ran through Ezio’s whole body at the motion. His hips were rolling back against his hand and his head was tipped back. “You only needed to ask.”

“Please don’t make me,” Ezio whispered. 

No, not this time but the next time (perhaps) and every time after. Leonardo pulled his hand away and smiled at the exhale of breath Ezio let out—like he’d been punched in the stomach. He turned his body to grab at the pot he left by the bed and slicked his fingers with the oil. “There is no shame here,” Leonardo said. But Ezio had hidden his face behind his arm. 

“Please,” Ezio said. 

Leonardo kissed his arm where it covered his face and watched the growing flush of his embarrassment as it spread from his face to his neck. He kissed the center of his collarbone and then the inside of his raised knee. His hand was resting against Ezio’s stomach when his slippery finger pushed inside of him—past the resistant muscle and as deep as he could in one single motion. 

Ezio’s whole body jolted, heels kicking against the bed and arms braced against the wall above his head, all of his breath was suddenly shot out of his mouth in a litany of curses that sounded gnawed and mangled. Leonardo meant to apologize, to pull away and placate the sudden alarm if not for the way Ezio’s whole body was pushing back against his hand, if not for how the curses trailed into a meaningless kind of gasp. 

“Ezio,” Leonardo whispered. He pulled out only so far as he had to push another finger in with the first and Ezio’s back arched off the bed. His teeth were white in the dimness and his breath was wet and impatient like the fist he pressed against his mouth. “I see I was mistaken.” Leonardo pulled back and Ezio gasped like a wounded creature, deflating against the bed in defeat. His eyes were resolutely closed, his face tight like he was waiting to be berated. “You are a greater idiot than even I imagined.” Leonardo reached for the pot again and poured a bit into his hands to slick his aching dick. “Have you done this before?”

Ezio shook his head. 

“But you thought about it?” Leonardo caught a hold of Ezio’s thighs, pulled him down and up so that his ass was resting against Leonardo’s bent legs. “Have you touch yourself? No that’s foolish—of course you have. You should have asked.”

“How does a man ask for such things?” Ezio asked. He was looking at him now, only just barely. Here the man that had stalked after death for so many years, cowed and humbled over nothing more than a deviant desire. 

“With his mouth,” Leonardo said. He pressed one hand against Ezio’s chest to hold him against the bed and used the other to press himself against Ezio’s slick little hole. “How often have you touched yourself? How many times did you press your fingers here? Did you think of me when you did it?” He rocked his hips forward just a fraction, just enough to put pressure but not enough to press inside. 

Oh-and-how Ezio whined at that, how he twisted and pushed back to get his way. But Leonardo leaned his weight in, shoved the great-and-powerful Assassino against the bed like he was nothing but a mortal man. The shock on Ezio’s face was almost as delicious as the needy groan that he couldn’t keep from passing his lips. 

“Did you think of me?” Leonardo asked again. He was just there, teasing at how he meant to bury himself in Ezio, at how he planned to fuck him. 

Ezio nodded his head, reaching down between his spread thighs to pull at Leonardo’s waist. “Don’t tease.” His hands were hard and his arms were strong like his legs when they tried to tighten around Leonardo and pull him in too. “This first,” Ezio said, “I’ll tell you anything you ask after.”

“Only me?” Leonardo asked.

“Yes,” Ezio whined. His hands were desperate now, his legs like vice grips and Leonardo relented, thrust forward and sank as deep as he could into Ezio. Oh-and-how the man arched, how breathless he was, how tight his body clenched around him. Leonardo ran his palms down his body, tightened his hands on Ezio’s hips as his body fell back to the bed. 

“This will not be much,” Leonardo mumbled. Because he had never imagined such a bed partner, someone that craved this so desperately—not even in his fevered imaginings had he thought of Ezio in such a way. He shifted his weight when he pulled out so that he could put the full of his strength into thrusting back inside. Ezio groaned at that, pulled at his arms and his sides and his ass, dragging him in faster on the next thrust. And the next, until Leonardo had to push his hands in against the bed on either side of Ezio’s chest to get the leverage to fuck into him. The slapping of their skin and the wet slip of their bodies was an obscene accompaniment to Ezio’s breathless gasps and bitten curses as he dug his heels into the bed to push back against Leonardo.

Ezio cursed him when he pulled too far back and came free of Ezio’s body. But Ezio was still rocking up against him, insistent and mindless. Leonardo sat back enough to grab his legs and put them over his shoulders before he leaned forward and grabbed Ezio’s elbows to pin the whole of his body to the bed. “Be still,” he said. 

“Yes, hurry,” Ezio mumbled back. He didn’t stop moving, but he couldn’t move much as bent in half as he was. 

Leonardo pushed back inside and fucked into him as fast as he dared. His fingers wore bruises into Ezio skin as tight as he had to hold him just to keep him still enough to fuck him. And Ezio’s face, slack and tipped back, his voice burning with gasps and groans and little words of praise and the whole of his body as it tightened and started to shiver and shake until it broke and he was coming again—shouting his surprise loud enough that everyone in the city might have heard it. 

Leonardo lost it—his rhythm, his better intentions, his inhibitions, he closed his eyes with this teeth clenched tight on his lip and pressed in as deep as he could manage when he came. 

\--but after—

Ezio was sweat-soaked and exhausted, unfolding his limbs as he collapsed uselessly in place. His tongue was pink against his bright-red lips and his eyes were so narrow and dark as he smiled. “If that is not much,” he mumbled, “I look forward to when it is something more.”

Leonardo bit his shoulder from where he’d fallen in place next to him. “Ah, but next time you will have to ask.”

Ezio caught him by the back of the neck and pulled him up to kiss him. It was a brief-messy press of mouths. Ezio rubbed their foreheads together as he yawned. “I make no promises, Leonardo. Thank you.” He was already falling asleep. 

\--and not so very much later—

Leonardo wasn’t asleep when Ezio pulled himself in through the open window, but he wasn’t necessarily awake either. The sky was a murky sort of dawn color through the shutters that Ezio was pulling closed and the room all around him was dark without the sparse night of the rising day. ‘Ezio?’ Leonardo mumbled. And Ezio was stripping naked in the space next to the bed. He threw his clothes almost carelessly across the room and then he was crawling into the bed, stealing in under the covers with curious and quick fingers seeking under the length of Leonardo’s night shirt to find his stiffening dick. ‘I need something from you,’ Ezio mumbled to him as he lifted his body up. He was already slick when he sank down on Leonardo and there was no telling who muttered the curse when their bodies came together.


End file.
